The first time we went to see our broken down home was not only devastating, but debilitating. How can one explain all the feelings of loss, despair & sadness? You really can’t unless you experience it. The words don’t even express the magnitude of emotions one feels or can’t feel. I’ll never forget seeing my baby grand piano laying in the ashes. I had nick-named her Miss Viola, after her makers brandname, Viola Grand. I had purchased her only a few years before, after praying for a miracle to purchase a used baby grand. It was a dream come true when I had found her, at a price I could easily afford! I could barely see her ivory & ebony keys, or the top of her worn wooden lid that resonated such wondrous sounds. She had been tucked away in an elderly woman’s mobile home, buried under books & clutter. I often wondered what magical hands had played her through the years. At 101 years old, she had lived through the roaring 20’s, big band 30’s & delta blues 40’s. Strolling into the sock-hop 50’s, she saw the birth of rock & roll in the 60’s & 70’s. She had seen it all! But today as I stared at my beauty Miss Viola, her glory was gone, her days of sweet music were ended. She had fallen from the top of the stairs down thru the floor and landed onto the hard garage floor. What was once my sweet Baby grand, was now nothing more than a rusted ole’ cast iron sound board. Just metal strings & pins dangling, like twisted barbs of wire. Oh, how can this be? Is this what life can be reduced to? What once played music to my ears is now nothing but pieces of iron rods & worthless scraps of metal & ash. I could not contain my emotion as the tears filled my eyes & the grief stole my heart. How do I mend this brokenness? Why do I feel like this is who I am… a reflection of myself? I could still feel the fire when I touched her burnt metal plate, as my tears rolled down her board & fell to the ground. Oh my heart… such sadness does despair! I cannot bear this thought as I see myself in there. Finally, here the song does rest, as I see the end of this beautiful story. As our lives are molded, shaped & played, the hand of the Father is never far away. He is near to the weary & broken-hearted, close to the hurting & downtrodden. If He cares for the lilies of the fields & the birds of the air, how much more valuable are we to our God! I keep Viola’s memory alive, she’s worth much more to me than gold. Perhaps that’s what I’m meant to say, He loves us more than we will ever know!
Photography by: Cindy Lee Hoover “Fiddlehead”
